Scelero
by jyote
Summary: With the destruction of the One Ring, Sauron was vanquished. But what then is this new evil that has set its sights on Gondor? Barely two years since the War of the Ring, danger appears again from out of the East. Post-ROTK


**note:** Whelp, I've been in a writing mood lately, and I'm trying my hand at a multi-chapter fic. For the first time. _EVER_. This should prove to be quite disastrous.

The title is Latin. It means _to pollute with blood_. The rating is PG-13 for now, but... I might have to warn you, it gets pretty gory and bloody and.. morbid later on. Features Legolas and Aragorn mostly, though others may be added to this list as we go on.

**disclaimer:** _Lord of the Rings_ belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. I own nothing! Yee!

**SCELERO**

by: joy

chapter one: In The East

It was two years ago that Sauron had been overthrown by the destruction of the One Ring. For two years the Fell Men of Rhûn and Harad have lain dormant, unguided and without purpose after their Dark Lord was no more. The Orcs retreated deep within their caves and underground dwellings, hidden far from the reaches of the sun. The Free People of Middle-earth continued their lives in peace and without worry.

But something has begun to stir in the unfamiliar regions of the Far East, beyond the red peaks of the Orocarni. Something sinister was being planned, unsuspected by those of the West.

The old man stood in the middle of the darkened chamber, completely motionless, as if frozen in time. On the floor, surrounding him in a wide circle, were many lit candles, their wavering flames casting the only light within the vast room. He appeared young for one of his age, his body lean and muscular from grueling training since birth, not yet hunched over with the weight of age and weary bones. But crow's-feet had formed at the corner of his eyes, and his hair, which ran down the length of his back in a single slim braid, once as black as night, was now white from the passing of many years. One might guess him to be no older than sixty. He was in fact closer to a thousand.

The mage was alone. His eyes were closed, and for hours he had been standing stationary in that very position, murmuring in an alien tongue. Gradually his chanting increased in volume, and he lifted his arms from his sides, where they had hung lifeless erstwhile, raising them palm-up toward the high ceiling. The candles suddenly burst and flared up until the flames towered over the ancient being in a blazing wall of fire. Everything was bathed in a light so brilliant, it was as if the sun itself had come down from the sky to appear within the confines of these stone walls.

Then just as suddenly, they died down and blinked out, one by one, until all was covered in darkness but for the glow of a single candle, its flame flickering weakly, refusing to be extinguished. For a moment, only the faint breathing of the lone man could be heard.

He opened his eyes, narrow slits that seemed barely wide enough to see through, though his vision was nearly flawless. And they were so black that any margin between pupil and iris was completely indistinguishable. His mouth twisted up into a crooked smile, and though there appeared to be no one present to take notice, he rested his right fist upon his breast and slowly bent to one knee, his long robes encumbering his movements. He lowered his head to bow reverently, and his long braid fell over his shoulder to sweep the ground in one smooth motion.

"My Lord," his clear voice rang loudly in the stillness of the chamber.

And a response was received by him, not by ear, but rather it manifested within his mind. The whispers echoed in his head, accompanied by a sound that was much akin to stone grinding against steel and equally unpleasant.

'_You..._,' it rasped in a manner that at once sent shivers down the spine of the one it was addressing. '_You must do something for me_.'

He lifted his head, though not yet rising from his submissive position. He knew that these words were not a request, but an ordered mandate, and one would have to be foolish not to concede to these demands.

"My Lord, I am your servant and at your bidding. Command me as you will."

**TBC...**

**note:** Ugh.. that was too short. Meh well, what can I say? I'm not good at being lengthy. I _can_ promise that the next chapter will be longer.

Review? Please? I like to know what I'm doing wrong :P

Edit: I decided to withdraw the old man's name, and am currently trying to think up a new one. Something more on-par with LotR, which is something I'm not particularly good at. Any ideas?


End file.
